The Worm Archive
by Bakkughan
Summary: A collection of whatever my brain comes up with that is based in the universe of Worm, as well as crossovers. It can range from one-shots, to complete stories to drabble fics. Just about anything that catches my fancy, really. (Currently includes; Chronicle, X-men, Attack on Titan, Crysis, Warhammer 40K)
1. Chronicle I

**AN:** Hello and welcome everybody! My apologies for starting this fic, instead of uploading my other ones, but have no fear! They should each receive an update either this week or the following week. The reason for the delay was because, as I finally freed myself rom my Warhammer 40k craze, I fell into a Worm craze. Seriously, I think I read just about every fic about Worm on this site, and I _still_ haven't read the original works. (My bad.)

But, I came up with an idea for a crossover, and I just couldn't let it go; I filled about an entire notebook full with storylines and plot ideas. I got some crazy idea's planned, so I'm looking forwards to seeing where I can take this! ^^

Enjoy!

* * *

 **Origins**

Andrew Detmer closed his locker with a sigh. School had finally finished for the day, though, as always, Andrew wondered whether or not he was glad about it or not. After all, school being finished meant that he finally received a reprieve from the various gangs that plagued Winslow, and by extension, him. On the other hand, school being finished also meant that he had to go home now.

Where his father waited to continue the work of the gangs, with malicious enthusiasm.

Decisions, decisions.

Giving another sigh as he heaved his bag on his shoulder, Andrew turned away from his locker, giving the various gang-tags that decorated it only a cursory glance.

Huh, looked like the Merchants were starting to get more active again.

Ducking his head, Andrew made his way through the hallways of Winslow, dodging the throng of people milling about, trying to get to the exit unseen and without hassle.

Of course, this being Winslow, avoiding gangs and bullies was an endeavor doomed to fail.

"Watch it, freak!"

Andrew's head snapped up at the shout, but it was already too late. A leg, quickly put in front of his own, saw him sprawled out over the dirty floor of the hallway, his backpack thrown loose from his shoulder due to the fall. Its contents spilled out across the floor with a clatter, as Andrew scrabbled to his feet.

Working from experience, the downed teenager almost threw himself over his school supplies, trying to shield them from the people surrounding them with his body. Quickly stuffing his supplies back into his bag, Andrew tried to ignore the jeers and laughter of the other students, focusing all of his attention of retrieving his stuff.

As he reached out for one of his books, a steel-tipped boot descended on it, smudging the cover. Dreading what he would find, though he felt as if he already knew, Andrew's eyes tracked the boot up to a leg, which was attached to a body, clad in red and black leather, on which rested a head.

A shaved head.

' _Oh that's just great. Empire 88, part-time Nazi's, full time assholes.'_ Andrew thought viciously to himself, though he made sure to not voice them out loud.

In Brockton Bay, people quickly learned that talking back to gang members was just asking for more trouble than you were already in.

Getting to his feet, backpack clutched to his chest, Andrew glared at his tormenter. He didn't even know the skinhead's name, even though this wasn't the first time he would come home with the neo-Nazi's boot prints on some of his stuff.

"I'd like that back now." Andrew said, hoping his voice didn't tremble as much as his legs.

Laughter met his statement, people making crude jokes and slapping each other on the back in congratulations. A quick glance around showed that people either joined in on the laughter, or pretended that nothing at all was going on.

A door to one of the classrooms a little down the hall, the head of Mr. Gladly, one of the teachers at Winslow peeking around the frame. Andrew locked eyes with the man, frustration and desperation warring in his gaze.

Mr. Gladly closed the door again.

' _Just another day at Winslow, I guess.'_ Andrew thought to himself bitterly, struggling to keep the tears of impotent fury contained.

A sudden silence brought Andrew back to his surroundings. Looking around, the teenager saw looks of predatory glee on the people surrounding him and apprehension on those that had tried to ignore the situation. Dread coiling in his stomach, Andrew turned to his tormenter, who was turning red in the face.

"What-?"

BLAM!

Andrew hit the floor, hard, feeling the coppery taste of blood explode in his mouth. Struggling to stand up again, Andrew managed to lean on his elbows and look at the Nazi wannabe that had just decked him. A heavy boot slamming down on his chest pushed Andrew back to the ground.

Looming above him, his face still red with fury, the Empire 88 thug snarled at his prone victim.

"Think you can just ignore me, freak?!"

Deciding that not aggravating the guy who just took him down with one punch was the better course of valor, Andrew quickly shook his head. Apparently this was enough for the skinhead, since he let out a cruel grin.

"Good. Now, let's take it from the top. Say: 'I'd like that back, _please_ '." the thug sneered at Andrew.

Seeing no way out, with the skinhead's boot still crushing his ribs, Andrew complied.

"I'd like that back, _please_." he spat through clenched teeth, the 'please' almost making him physically ill.

Laughter erupted once more, as cruel jokes and derogative statements made their way around the rest of the people surrounding Andrew and the Empire 88 member. The Nazi soaked up the attention, before turning back towards the teen lying underneath his boot. A look of contemplation crossed the thug's face, before he gave a snort of contempt.

"You're lucky, freak. I ain't got no time to teach you proper respect today, got some more… _important business_ to attend to." the gangbanger said pompously.

Admiring gazes from the people surrounding them made Andrew sick to his stomach. Everybody knew what the thug had meant with 'important business'; for their members, the business of the Empire 88 was the most important thing in the world. This usually included forcing their Nazi ideology on the rest of Brockton Bay in the most articulate way they knew.

By beating the shit out of everybody who was _not_ white.

And those who _were_ white, but who they simply didn't like all that much.

' _And these people look like they think that's the greatest thing in the fucking world.'_ Andrew thought hatefully as he took in the admiring gazes of the crowd.

He snapped back to his tormenter as the pressure on his chest slightly increased. Seeing he had his attention again, the thug continued.

"So for today, you get to run away, freak. Tomorrow though…" the neo-Nazi trailed of in what had probably been intended as a dark and ominous chuckle, though the effect was ruined by the gang member still being in puberty.

With complimentary cracked voice.

The crowd obviously ignored it, chuckling to themselves as well.

' _They're all just like sheep, only… less intelligent.'_ Andrew thought to himself as he took in the mindless sycophants surrounding him.

A sharp kick to his ribs brought him back to the present.

"Just run away already, freak. Nobody here wants to look at your ugly face no more." the Nazi wannabe growled, following up his statement with another kick.

Couching up some blood, Andrew ignored the jeers from the crowd, who by the sound of it, agreed wholeheartedly with what the Empire 88 thug had said. Getting to his feet, he grabbed his back and the few supplies that had spilled out of it again. His hand darted out to the book that now had a boot print on its cover, quickly smashing it into his bag.

Getting to his feet, Andrew shoved his way through the crowd, walking away at a speed that was just barely under a run. He kept his head down, trying furiously to keep tears from spilling from his eyes, though he already knew he wasn't entirely successful.

' _Fuck 'em. Fuck ALL of them. Fuck all those people who laughed with that idiot. Fuck all those people who pretended nothing was wrong. And FUCK Mr. Gladly especially.'_ Andrew kept thinking to himself, his thoughts continuing to turn down an ever darker growing path.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he almost didn't notice that he had reached the exit. Quickly dragging his sleeve across his eyes to remove any possible traces of crying, Andrew pushed open the doors leading to freedom.

Leading _away_ from Winslow.

He almost immediately came to a halt the moment he stepped outside though. There, standing clearly in the carpark, arms crossed across his chest, stood Richard Detmer.

And he looked pissed.

' _FUCK! What's he doing here?!'_ Andrew panicked, contemplating turning around and walking back into the bowels of Winslow.

Neo-Nazi bullies didn't even come _close_ to the evil that was Andrew's father.

Before he could flee however, Richard locked eyes with his son, making an irritated 'come here'-motion.

' _FUCK!'_

Making his way over towards his father, fear warring with sheer terror, Andrew almost cried in relief when he saw the car next to his dad. A nondescript van, it stood out in its mundaness amongst the banged up and tagged cars in the rest of the parking lot.

A PRT van.

It always struck Andrew as ironic, that in all their efforts to make their vans not stand out amongst a crowd, they only made the vehicles more recognizable. In a city like Brockton Bay, which was plagued by gangs and violence, cars were either damaged, scratched, or simply old, or they bore the tag from one of the gangs in the city.

Usually they were both.

The squeaky clean and undamaged vans were as much an eyesore as an ABB member in the heart of E88 territory.

Ignoring some of the more obvious ways the PRT expressed their complete and utter lack of understanding of Brockton Bay, Andrew made his way over to where his father was waiting, his fear noticeably lesser than it had been.

The apprehension was still there, but that was not an unusual thing when dealing with Richard Detmer, PRT-agent. However, his father had used one of the vehicles of work, which meant he was still on the clock, despite being put of uniform. He probably was on break and would have to return to HQ pretty soon; Winslow wasn't exactly close to where the PRT was stationed after all.

It would also mean that his father had less time in which to harass him.

Though Andrew didn't even think for a second that his dad wouldn't make the effort.

He was dedicated in that way.

Having finally reached his father, Andrew couldn't completely contain his sigh of relief. Sitting behind the wheel of the van was Richard's brother-in-law, Michael Garetty. Michael was married to Andrew's aunt and was Richard's superior officer. Richard hated him, but whenever Michael was around, he was forced to curb his more… violent tendencies.

"Hello." Andrew murmured, looking at his shoes, not wanting to look his father in the eye.

The sentiment was returned.

"Get in." came the gruff answer.

"What?" Andrew asked surprised.

He never got to ride in one of the PRT sanctioned vehicles, something about regulations, though Andrew wouldn't put it past Richard to make something like that up, just to spite him.

" _Don't_ make me say it again, brat." his father growled.

Recognizing the tone of voice, one that would promise trouble later, Andrew quickly complied, getting in the back of the van. It was rather bare, he noticed, with the only notable thing being a duffle bag lying on the floor.

Or rather, _his_ duffle bag.

The terror returned, settling like ice cold tendrils in Andrew's gut. So, this was it. This was the day. The day he got kicked out of his home. As he sank into one of the chairs, Andrew contemplated his situation.

He had seen it coming of course, he had known all along that someday, something would have to give. Apparently it had; his father had packed Andrew's bag full with clothes. Things didn't look good for him.

' _Where am I even going to stay?'_ he thought to himself, feeling oddly detached from the whole situation.

The closing of door shook Andrew out of his thoughts, focusing on the lined face of his father. His look was coolly returned with carefully hidden disgust visible in the man's eyes.

"No need to worry Andrew." Michaels' warm voice grabbed Andrew's attention.

Andrew liked Michael. The man was kind, but forceful when he had to be, and was very nice to Andrew's aunt, who, after his mother of course, was probably Andrew's favorite woman in the whole world.

The PRT Officer continued.

"We are just going to drop you off at my place. Matt is already there, as is his friend Steve. You remember Steve don't you?"

Andrew didn't really. He knew Steve Montgomery more through his cousin Matt and the grapevine at Winslow. Steve's dad had a pretty high position in the office of the Mayor and as such brushed shoulders with some of the most powerful people in Brockton Bay.

Rumor had it that Steve was friends with Triumph and that he had even met Armsmaster once, though Andrew didn't know if believed that.

Michael didn't wait for an answer though and continued in his warm tone of voice.

"Joseph came with this interesting idea for the coming holidays; there's this summer camp that's supposed to be really fun and educative. He was apparently talking with Danny Hebert of the Dockworker's Union again, and the man mentioned that he was sending his daughter Taylor to the camp, and so Joseph thought that it would be nice for Steve as well. God knows the kid deserves a break now and then." Michael kept talking, even as he effortlessly maneuvered through Brockton Bay's midday traffic.

Andrew knew Taylor Hebert only vaguely. He knew that she went to Winslow with him, but she didn't share many classes with him. More importantly, however, was that she was friends with Emma Barnes, who Andrew _did_ know.

Well, from a respectable distance, at least.

Emma Barnes was so far out of his league, it wasn't even funny anymore. As such, Andrew didn't have any connection with either her or Taylor. He _had_ heard of Taylor's dad though; the man was the leader of the Dockworker's Union, who had fallen on hard times after the appearance of Leviathan and all the troubles involved with Endbringers in general.

The man was also friends with Steve's dad, Joseph, due to the both of them often meeting about the issues the Dockworker's Union faced from day to day. They didn't really make any noticeable headway, but the fact that the DU even existed in the first place spoke of both men's dedication to the cause.

Andrew focused on Michael again, who had continued talking, oblivious (or at least, Andrew _thought_ the man was oblivious; you never knew with PRT Agents) to the fact that his audience had stopped paying attention.

"- so Joseph rings me up, asking me if Matt wants to come as well. Well, of course Matt would like that, he and Steve are joined at the hip, always getting into trouble together, ha ha!" Michael laughed good-naturedly, obviously not minding the 'trouble' his son got into.

Andrew was briefly overcome with a crushing sense of envy, before he tried to shake it off. It wasn't Matt's fault that he had a decent dad, and neither was it Michael's fault for being one. Still though…

' _Why didn't_ _ **I**_ _get a decent dad as well?'_ he thought to himself, glancing briefly at his father, who was sullenly looking out the window.

Then again, Richard Detmer _always_ looked sullen.

Not noticing Andrew's sudden dark mood, Michael continued with his story.

"So Matt agrees to go with Steven to this summer camp, and I can't help but think that this is great. 'Cause me and your dad here will be reassigned for a couple of months. Don't know why precisely, though at the briefing, Piggot mentioned something like 'counter-infiltration' procedures." Michael shrugged; clearly, it didn't really bother him all that much to be shuffled around on the hope someone wouldn't stick their nose where it didn't belong.

"But then I think to myself, Richard here is reassigned alongside me as well, which would leave you in the same position as Matt. So when I told him, he suggested that you come as well. When I ran it past Richard, he was all for the idea."

' _I just bet you were. Getting me out of your hair and away from mom? Why am I not surprised you thought this was a good idea?'_ Andrew thought to himself venomously.

He _was_ surprised at Matt's actions though. It wasn't really as if there was any bad blood or anything of the sort between the two of them, but they also didn't really hang out together; Matt was going to Arcadia after all, along Steve, the Wards (though nobody knew who they were) and New Wave's Panacea and Glory Girl (who _everybody_ knew who they were).

So Matt's offer pleasantly surprised Andrew, his opinion of his cousin rising several notches.

' _Who knows, maybe this won't be too bad after all.'_ He thought to himself, desperately hoping he wasn't wrong.

The universe owed him this much at least, right?

However, there was still one thing that was niggling on the edge of Andrew's mind.

"Sir, what about my mother? If I'm gone and my father is reassigned, she'll be all alone." Andrew spoke up for the first time he stepped foot inside the van.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his father's knuckles whiten.

Michael just chuckled reassuringly.

"Don't worry about it, Andrew. Whitney will be all too happy to have Karen over for a while, just the two of them. Everything'll turn out all right, you just wait and see." Michael said fondly.

' _You just wait. This is Brockton Bay. Things don't just 'turn out all right'.'_ Andrew thought morosely to himself.

* * *

Andrew was sitting outside under the night sky, fiddling with his camera. It was one of his most prized possessions, and as such he rarely had it on him. It probably wouldn't last a single day at Winslow, and he'd rather not let his dad near it if he could help it.

The man tended to break things whenever he got angry. Which around Andrew came down to almost always.

So Andrew considered this to be a rare treat, to simply sit outside, undisturbed, fiddling with his camera. Currently he was checking out the night vision on it, trying to get proper shots with minimal lighting.

Of course, his contentment couldn't last.

"Hey Andrew! Andrew!"

Giving a sigh, Andrew turned around on the tree log he had been sitting on, looking at the two figures approaching him.

"Hey Matt."

Andrew didn't really know how to feel about his cousin. He was thankful for Matt for suggesting to come along, and so far, during his brief stay with the Garetty's and the uneventful trip to the summer camp the teenager had been nothing but friendly and polite. But Matt hung around more with Steve, who Andrew didn't really know all that well, so he preferred to remain in the background while the two friends were horsing around.

On top of that, despite Matt's friendliness, Andrew couldn't help but be annoyed by Matt's naivety. He knew of course that Arcadia didn't have the same problems with bullying that Winslow had, and he knew that the Garrety's didn't live as close to the Docks as Andrew did, but Matt had grown up so sheltered, it was almost as if those uglier aspects of Brockton Bay didn't even exist.

For Andrew, who was struggling to keep his head above the water in those uglier aspects, who felt as if every single day was a struggle to survive long enough to see the next one, this was almost insulting. Only because Matt so obviously didn't know better kept him from lashing out at him and Steve.

He was shaken quite literally from his musings as his cousin had grabbed him enthusiastically by the shoulders, shaking Andrew back and forth in his excitement. Glancing over his cousin's shoulder, he could see Steve with an enormous grin splitting his face, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet. Andrew could smell faint hints of alcohol on both of them.

Turning his head back to his cousin, who was _still_ shaking him, Andrew craned his head a little. He wasn't exactly short, but his cousin was powerfully build, and topped him by a few inches at least.

"Hey Andrew, you're good with a camera, right?!" Matt said excitedly, his grip tight on Andrew's shoulders.

"You keep shaking me like that, and I won't _have_ a camera to be good with." Andrew responded dryly, causing Matt to blush in embarrassment, before quickly letting go of his shoulders.

He could hear Steve's muffled snort at his response, but when he glanced in his direction, the dark-skinned teenager's face betrayed nothing, still sporting the enormous grin he had when he and Matt approached him. Andrew let out a snort of his own.

' _Politician's son through and through I suppose.'_

"So what did you need?" Andrew asked Matt, who somehow managed to look even _more_ excited.

The taller teenager leaned slightly forward, lowering his voice to a rushed whisper.

"I think we found something!"

Andrew raised a skeptical eyebrow, even though he could feel himself becoming curious.

"Something? What kind of something?"

This time it was Steve that spoke up.

"We think its bones or something, maybe they're from something prehistoric, but they're definitely _big_."

"Just how big are we talking about here?" Andrew asked cautiously, though he couldn't help but be intrigued now.

In response, Matt spread his long arms wide, hands outstretched, looking at Andrew with a grin.

"That big?!" Andrew almost shouted.

Bones that big belonged almost always to a prehistoric animal, and when found were something of a sensation amongst historians.

Matt nodded at Andrew's slack jawed expression, grin growing wider still.

"I know, right! We document this, contact the right groups, we could become famous!"

"We could become rich!" Steve chimed in.

"We could have our names on the covers of scientific magazines!"

' _I could pay for my mother's medicines.'_ Andrew thought dumbstruck.

"So, what do you say? Ready to make history?" Matt asked him, hand struck out.

Andrew barely had to think about it, a matching grin to the one that had almost permanently stuck itself to his cousin's face on his own now. He shook Matt's hand with vigor.

"Lead the way."

* * *

It turned out that the bones were in a cave of sorts. Andrew briefly wondered if his cousin hadn't kept something from his family; after all, what other reason do two teenagers have to sneak into a remote cave, all alone.

"So, Matt, you want to tell me something?" Andrew asked with forced nonchalance, as he tried to maneuver down the cave with a single hand, camera held securely within the other.

"Tell you what, Andrew?" Matt replied distractedly, trying to feel his way forwards in the darkness, only aided by the small flashlight he carried in his pocket.

"Well… ahem… I mean… about your… ehh… _sexuality_?"

" _WHAT?!"_ Matt chocked out.

Behind them, Steve was laughing hysterically.

"Well, you want to explain why the two of you were away from the camp, in this cave, alone?"

Steve's laughter turned into coughing.

In front of him, he could see Matt blushing so hard that he hardly needed the flashlight to see in the dark.

"It's nothing like that!" Matt snapped.

Andrew merely raised an eyebrow.

"Steve wandered into the woods, found this cave, came back and got me, then when I saw the bones too, we went and got you." Matt bit out, his face still doing a remarkably good impression of a tomato.

"And what was Steve doing out here in the woods by himself?"

Matt opened his mouth, before he closed his mouth with a snap, his brow furrowed in thought. As one, both cousins turned towards their friend, identical expressions on their face.

Steve's eyes widened as a rabbit caught in approaching headlights before stammering an explanation.

"Look I needed to pee, all right?! And I couldn't do it in the toilets at the camp, because they were all occupied! So I came to the woods, did my thing and I, uhh… sort of… kinda… got lost."

The silence was deafening.

Finally Matt spoke up.

"You… had to pee… and got lost?"

Steve shrugged in apology.

Matt shook his head in exasperation.

Andrew helpfully didn't point out that his camera was still running.

"Whatever, let's just go, the bones are up ahead, we're almost there." Matt said, continuing to walk deeper into the cave.

Andrew and Steve quickly followed, not wanting to be left alone in the dark.

Despite the bones not being more than several yards away, it still took the trio almost ten minutes to get there; the boys had to crawl over buried tree roots and over sharp rocks, all the while trying not to trip or lose their way in the darkness.

Finally, after the most frustrating minutes in their lives, they had arrived at where the Matt and Steve had claimed the bones were buried.

Immediately, Andrew knew that they had been had.

"Dammit!" he swore loudly, getting the attention of the other boys.

"What? What is it?" Matt asked worriedly.

"It's not a fossil."

Looking from the exposed bone back to Andrew, Steve spoke up.

"What do you mean it's not a fossil? Bones are fossils, right?"

Andrew shook his head.

"Fossils are petrified bones. Basically, they're stones in the shape of bones. This is just a bone."

This time it was Matt that swore. Walking closer to the bone he ran a finger along the exposed yellow white remains.

"But, bones this big, it had to have come from some large animal, right? So maybe they're from one that died not long ago."

Andrew shook his head again, walking closer to his cousin, examining the bone for himself.

"There aren't any animals in the U.S. that are big enough to leave bones of this size, and those that _have_ lived here, lived so long ago their bones would have turned into fossils."

Andrew leaned in closer, one hand running across the bone. He and Matt were joined by Steve, who quickly copied Andrew's actions. A look of intense concentration crossed his face, eyes narrowed in thought. Both Matt and Andrew watched him wearily, and as such were taken off guard when they saw understanding dawn in the dark-skinned teenager.

"FUCK!"

Who proceeded to swear up a colourful storm. Andrew was impressed; a few of those he hadn't even heard his father say.

"Steve! What the hell?!" Matt yelled over the din of Steve's swearing.

The other boy had heard him though and whirled around, one finger extended accusingly at the enormous bone next Matt and Andrew.

"That's not even bone! It's ivory! That thing is an elephant's tusk!"

Andrew turned to Matt, who looked equally gob-smacked.

"And elephant? What the hell is it doing here?" Andrew asked numbly.

"Fuck if I know! Maybe this cave was a cache for traders or something, and then they couldn't return and left it here. I bet that if we'd explore more of this cave, we'd find even more of these tusks!" Steve shouted back, before pacing around, widely swinging his arms, and continued his swearing.

"But… maybe there's a reward for calling it in, or something?" Andrew asked desperately.

' _There must be_ _ **something**_ _that can help me pay for mom's medicines!'_

Matt shook his head though.

"With the amount of S-Rank Threats in Africa, governments have been cracking down really hard on poaching and the like. Makes them look like they're at least doing _something_ and elephants and rhinos are almost extinct as it is. We report a cache of ivory like this, best case scenario, we get a pat on the back and are told to go on our merry way."

"And worst case scenario?"

Matt winced.

"Let's hope _really_ hard for the best case scenario."

"FUCK!"

The cousins were startled out of their conversation at Steve's roar. The teenager's pacing had been steadily increasing, while his attention to his surroundings had been steadily decreasing. The predictable result had been that the boy had tripped on something and was now lying face down on the floor.

Steve sprung back to his feet, his face contorted in fury.

"FUCK THIS!"

Before either cousin could stop him, Steve had walked towards the closest wall, which happened to be the one with the tusk sticking out of it, and kicked it with all of his strength. A muffled 'thud' and some dust shaken loose from the ceiling above them were the only results of Steve's kick.

Well, that, and a bruised foot, as Steve's renewed swearing implied.

Matt gave an explosive sigh of relief before rolling his eyes.

"Just calm down, would you. Who knows how stable this cave is? You could've caused a cave-in, and the-"

Whatever else Matt would have said was drowned out by a low groaning sound. It was incredibly loud, making the boys' brains rattle around in their skull. It was nearly physically present due to its sheer, all-encompassing, _loudness_.

As abruptly as it had begun it stopped, as if it had never been there to begin with. The three teenagers shared a panicked glance, each one standing as still as possible, no one daring to so much as breathe.

Then the rumbling started.

Andrew had never experienced an earthquake before, though he imagined it would feel something like this. It was like the floor had turned into a solid version of the sea, with great rolling waves rocking everything that stood on its surface.

Which, in this case, was him and his friends.

"RUN!"

Andrew was already running before he registered that he had been the one to shout. A hurried glance backwards showed that Matt and Steve were right on his heels. Looking further back, Andrew could see the cave collapse in on itself, the ground buried under mounds of rubble, like an inverted version of a tsunami.

And it was gaining on them.

Looking ahead again, Andrew tried to run even faster, though he could already feel his muscles straining to keep up. A tiny flicker caught his attention and as he focused, he realized that he was looking at the sky.

They were almost out!

Looking back at Matt and Steve, Andrew wanted to shout something at them. Maybe words of encouragement? Maybe simply yell to run even faster? But he never could. A different kind of rumble, audible above even the noise of the cave-in behind them, made itself known.

And it came from ahead of them.

Looking ahead again, Andrew just saw a black shape slide in front of the patch of sky, rubble falling to the ground in front of him, the walls collapsing in on each other.

The exit was shut off.

Skidding to a painful stop, Andrew almost smacked into the wall that had suddenly formed in-between him and freedom. Turning back, terror clearly visible even in the darkness, he saw matching expressions on Matt and Steve's faces as they came to a stop in front of him.

With the avalanche of dirt and stone right on their heels.

' _NO! I DON'T WANT TO DIE! MOM! MOOOM! PLEASE! I DON'T WA-'_

And then came the crushing darkness, as all three boys were buried in the cave-in.

* * *

 _The two entities, both larger than the mortal mind could comprehend, were moving around and into each other, every clash powerful enough to crush planets._

 _They communicated, with psychic messages of a magnitude so great, they thundered throughout the reality of the universe._

 _Together, these titans in space, these eldritch beings, these gods of chaos, came to a decision._

 _DESTINATION._

 _AGREEMENT._

 _TRAJECTORY._

 _AGREEMENT._

 _SATISFACTION._

 _CONFIDENCE._

 _And, simultaneously, the two titans shed parts from themselves, which combined in three lesser, but individual shards._

 _Which were hurled down to the little blue planet below._

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** The director made Dane DeHaan, Michael B. Jordan, and Alex Russell live in a house together for 15 days in order to create a genuine bond between the three.


	2. Chronicle II

**AN:** Nothing really to say this time, so let's just get on with it :)

* * *

 **Chapter 2 – Awakening**

Matt's return to consciousness wasn't like anything you'd expect if you'd go by books and movies and such. There was no gentle light, steadily growing brighter, or dark shapes slowly taking the form of concerned loved ones hovering over your bed.

No, Matt Garrety awoke with a scream.

Gasping, the young man looked around the dark room, moonlight filtering in trough the ratty blinds in front of the single window, forming a broken shaft of soft white light which provided just enough illumination so that Matt could see without too much trouble. It appeared as if he was in a hospital of some kind, considering the kind of bed he was in and the fact he was wearing a patient's robe.

Both of which were utterly soaked in sweat, he noticed to his distaste.

Wiping his brow, Matt scrutinized the small room again, trying to figure out just what the hell was going on, and where the hell he was. The last thing he remembered was the tsunami of rubble and dust closing in on him, crushing him and Andrew and Steve-

' _Andrew and Steve!'_

His friends! What happened to his friends! Where were they? Were they okay? Did they get to the hospital too or were they-

' _NO! Don't you dare think that, don't even think about it for a second!'_

Ignoring his aching body, which he only now realized, despite it being sore beyond belief, didn't show any visible signs of having been crushed under tons of rock, Matt threw away the thin covers and jumped out of his bed.

Only to land flat on his face.

Grunting, Matt raised himself on shaking arms, desperately trying to get his feet to support him. After what felt like hours, but only could've been mere minutes, Matt had managed to stand upright again, albeit very wobbly, and slowly stumbled towards the door.

 _Rattle_

' _No, you've got to be kidding me! Locked?!'_

Matt rattled the handle again, panic rising in his chest. He started to feel as if he was back in the cave when it collapsed. The walls of the room were starting to close in on him, the roof lowering itself until he could swear his head was brushing the ceiling, metal bands wrapping around his chest, making it impossible to breath-

 _Click_

The air whooshed back into his lungs as he stared dumbfounded at the door handle in his hand… which was no longer connected to the door. Dropping the piece of metal as if it was hot to the touch, Matt swallowed. Deciding to ignore the mystery for now, he raised his hand to the door-

 _Creeeeek_

-Only for the door to swing open without him even touching it. Matt's eyes went wide as he stared at his outstretched palm, mind clawing its way through cobwebs in order to get to a thought Matt knew he should have come up with by now, but simply was too stunned to think of.

Until it all fell smoothly in one place.

' _Holy shit! I triggered?! I'm a parahuman!?'_

Every single child had of course dreamt of someday having superpowers, even before Scion revealed himself to Earth Bet. Earth Aleph was still hung up on its comic book heroes and movies, while on Bet they had the Protectorate and, perhaps more importantly, the Triumvirate. Every girl wanted to be Alexandria, every boy Legend or Eidolon.

Even Matt had sometimes fantasized of waking up one day to discover he had powers. Maybe an Alexandria package? Or perhaps some awesome Blaster power, that'd be so cool! He knew he had the potential to develop powers; as part of Anti-Stranger protocols amongst PRT-personnel, the Garretys were all submitted to extensive medical tests, which had included a brain scan. It had shown that Matt had a Corona Pollentia, a part of the human brain that allows for the development of powers during a trigger event.

The moment he had gotten the news, he couldn't help but fantasize for weeks on end about developing powers, how he would make an awesome hero costume, get out there, clean Brockton Bay up within the week and have the Triumvirate themselves come and congratulate him. He had grown out of those fantasies of course, but the dreams about having powers and what he'd do with them had always remained.

Those dreams were shattered the moment he opened a door without needing to touch it.

There was no euphoria, or some genius insight into his powers and how to use them for the sake of Good.

There was sheer, all-encompassing, mind-numbing terror.

' _Oh shit, Oh shit, I have powers! Shit, shit, shit, Holy Shit, what do I do, I have powers, shit!'_

It was like his mind was stuck on a loop, a broken record endlessly repeating itself. This wasn't how he had imagined reacting to his powers, but moving things without touching them… sure, it wasn't unheard of, there were plenty of Capes out there who could do so one way or another, but to do it _yourself_ , do the impossible yourself instead of some costumed stranger on tv?

You'd freak the fuck out.

Which Matt did to his heart's content.

After internally screaming his head off for the last few minutes, sitting down on the ground because his wobbly legs had given up on him, Matt finally managed to calm himself down again.

"Keep it together Garrety." He whispered hoarsely to himself.

After the initial shock of doing something like casually breaking the laws of physics (though to be fair, they've had a rough couple of decades on Earth Bet by now), Matt couldn't help but feel exited.

Being a Cape was extremely dangerous yes, but some of the more common worries were already taken care of for him. There were the Unwritten Rules of course, which (almost) guaranteed the safety of a Cape's secret identity and their family (most of the time). On top of that, Matt's dad wasn't at all helpless, being an experienced PRT-Agent in the roughest Cape scene in North America.

His dad also pretty much secured a spot for him in the Brockton Bay department of the Protectorate, since they worked closely together with the PRT. Sure, he was still underage, and would have to join the Wards, but those guys were awesome in their own right, and Matt was always happy to make new friends.

Of course, the gangs and their Capes were the most dangerous to him if he decided to become a hero; holding back wasn't something that really existed in their vocabulary. Still, if he joined the Wards, then he had a team backing him up, which could provide him with training and equipment, which would go a long way into keeping him safe.

Well, as safe as being a Cape in Brockton Bay can be, that is.

Or just simply being in Brockton Bay to begin with, he supposed.

With the sheer terror from before now having been replaced by tentative enthusiasm, Matt struggled his way to stand on his feet again. Sure, thinking about his future as a superpowered Cape was all well and good, but he still needed to find his friends first.

' _Besides, I still don't know what my superpowers even are. It could be Telekinesis like that Nazi Cape Rune, but with all the weird stuff out there, it could just give me some sort of control over doors or something.'_

Shuffling through the unlit hallways, an image of Matt fighting the gangs of Brockton Bay with nothing but the powers of doors on his side popped up in his tired mind. Sneaking up to a hideout or something and keep opening and closing the doors, making the gang members freak out, make them think the house was haunted. Or just generally annoy them by continuously making drafts appear.

Next came an image of him riding a tidal wave of doors against a fully transformed Lung, only for the Dragon of Kyushu to be completely submerged under a mountain of doors, with him standing in a Captain Morgan pose on top of his defeated enemy.

' _These must be some_ really _powerful painkillers they put me on.'_ Matt thought to himself as he couldn't contain a couple of giggles from escaping him.

Finally the hallway came to an end, in what Matt guessed was some sort of waiting room with uncomfortable looking seats sporadically lining the walls, and a cluttered reception desk shoved in a corner.

' _Bingo.'_

Shuffling as quickly as he could, Matt made his way over to the desk, trembling hands desperately riffling through the papers that were strewn about haphazardly.

' _C'mon, please let there be some sort of patient sheet or something,_ anything _, c'mon, by Scion's golden left testicle, please-'_

Right then, Matt's hand caught on a clipboard. Quickly lifting the thing to his eyes, the young man let out an explosive sigh of relief when he saw that it was a list of all the patients who were staying in this wing, alongside their room numbers.

Matt's eyes quickly scanned the page, intently looking for the name of his best friend and his awkward cousin. Either this was a very small hospital, or there simply weren't that many people required to stay the night, because there were only a few names on the list, making it easy to find his friends.

"Dare, Decan, Desmond, aha Detmer, Andrew, room 281!" Matt whispered triumphantly to himself.

His eyes quickly flitted down the page.

"Mallory, Michaels, Montgomery, Steven, room 283." Matt read aloud.

Luckily, it seemed Steve and Andrew were placed across the hall from each other, which Matt was incredibly thankful for. He didn't think his legs would hold out much longer. He quickly hobbled away, and had almost left the waiting room, before he realized that he still had the clipboard in his hand. Giving a sigh, Matt half-turned back towards the desk and threw the clipboard on it.

He immediately knew he had underestimated just how tired he really was; instead of landing on the desk as he had intended for it to do, the clipboard would land only several feet away from him.

Which, coincidentally, was where a small table was standing.

With a _very_ large vase on top of it.

Not really knowing why he did it, Matt flung out his hand, willing with all his might that the clipboard flew _just_ a little further, that it would clear the vase _just_ enough to not smash it into a million pieces.

In response, there was a faint gust of wind, and a dull _'thunk'_.

The clipboard had imbedded itself into the far wall.

Once more staring wide-eyed at his hand, Matt cautiously lowered it to his side, taking great care to point his palm _away_ from him.

What?

No need to take unnecessary risks after all.

Following the signs, Matt made his way towards the rooms of his friends, all the while trying to keep a grip on his racing mind. Any doubt he still might have had about having gained superpowers were gone now. Unfortunately, so was most of his previous enthusiasm.

He had never even considered the possibility of gaining a power he couldn't control.

Ever since Capes had started to appear, there had been tragedies of them killing their loved ones by accident, sometimes during the trigger event itself, sometimes simply because of a miscalculation on their part, or because their powers started acting up.

One of the earlier and more known examples was from the nineties, about a man who could turn his nails into diamond hard explosive projectiles. He wasn't even really a Cape, being considered as a neutral party as he went about his mundane job. One day, after a particularly boring and long day at work, the man went home, not realizing his friends and family had arranged a surprise birthday party.

Man opens door. People jump out at him from out of nowhere. Man activates power out of reflex.

And corpses were all that was left to enjoy the party.

A shudder shot down Matt's spine as he glanced at his hand, palm still facing outwards. What if his power started to act up on him in the same way? What if, every time he raised his hand or something, he would shoot out a telekinetic blast? If his mom were to give him a glass of water, would he accidentally send her through a wall if he raised his hand to accept it?

Slowly the terror from before started to worm its way back into Matt's mind, before he furiously shook his head.

' _No! I'm not going to let that happen!'_ he thought resolutely to himself.

Forget applying to the Wards, or proudly showing his dad his awesome powers. No, first, he'd train. He'd train his ass off, until his powers were under his control, instead of the other way around. He wouldn't come out as a hero, until he was _absolutely_ certain that his powers wouldn't accidentally hurt somebody.

He was so deep in thought he almost missed rooms 281 and 283. In fact, he would have, were it not for a hand clamping down on his shoulder.

Matt whirled around, despite himself already raising his hands with the palms facing outward.

"Whoa! Easy there Matt!"

Standing there, looking just as haggard as Matt felt, stood his friend Steve Montgomery. Matt let out a deep sigh of relief as he slumped a little, letting his hands fall back to his sides.

"You alright?"

Matt looked up at Steve's concerned voice, giving a distracted nod as he scrutinized his friend.

"I should ask you that. You look like hell."

Steve snorted in response, though Matt could tell his friend didn't really disagree.

"Thanks, I missed you too." Steve bit back sarcastically, but his voice was too tired to put any real heat in it.

Matt grinned at his friend, before opening his mouth, wanting to blurt out the fact that he had powers immediately. But he couldn't. Could he? Was it safe? Sure there were the Unwritten Rules, but that didn't mean the Villains wouldn't bend them a little if you gave them even half a chance. If he were to tell Steve that he had powers, he might just end up putting his friend in danger.

Not to mention that he had sworn he would first try to get his powers under control before-

"Dude, you alright? You looked like you choked on something."

Matt quickly shook his head.

"Oh no, it's nothing. I was just thinking about how…" he trailed off, as he stared at Steve, who was looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"…you're not wounded." Matt finished, wondering how he only noticed it now.

It was true, just like Matt, there wasn't a single scratch on Steve's body, not even so much as a bruise, despite having been buried by tons of rock.

"Neither are you." Steve pointed out drily.

"Well, yes, but that's because I've-" Matt cut himself off at the last second.

He narrowed his eyes at his friend, who was now grinning like a loon.

"Steve. What's going on?"

Was this all a prank somehow? Some practical joke? Were people going to pop up all over the place, pointing at hidden cameras and having a laugh at his expense? While he wouldn't put it past Steve to do something like that, he had to wonder about the scale of it all.

"I triggered."

Wait.

What.

Wait.

 _What!_

"I said, I triggered."

Matt simply stared at Steve, not realizing that he had spoken out loud.

"You triggered?"

"Yeah, man, what's wrong with you? You usually aren't that slow."

Matt could barely believe it. It was incredibly rare for people to simultaneously trigger. The most common occurrences were amongst the survivors of an Endbringer attack, and even then it was more spread out, with some triggering sometime during the attack, and others during the aftermath.

If Steve had said was true though, and Matt suspected it was, if only because non-parahumans usually don't walk away from a cave-in without a scratch, then the two of them had triggered at the same time, which was more rare than seeing Alexandria smile, or hear Scion talk.

"So what can you do?" Matt heard himself ask.

It was if his tired mind had simply given up and was now taking a back seat, letting his body fumble around on auto control.

Steve's grin only got wider.

"Check it out."

He quickly looked around, before letting his eyes fall on one of the dingy seats in the hallway. He stuck out his arm, and with a frown raised it upwards.

And the chair did the same.

The world screeched to a halt, and Matt felt as if his gut hadn't buckled in properly and had been catapulted screaming straight out of his body.

His friend triggered at the same time he did…

… with the same powers he had?

Scratch rare, this was unheard of. While of course there had been Capes with similar powersets, as evident because of the fact that they even had something called the Alexandria-package, just to group together a bunch of capes with similar powers, but _nobody_ had the same powers as another Cape did.

And Matt could tell that Steve was doing the same thing that he had done with the door and the clipboard.

He couldn't really explain it, he just knew that he and Steve didn't have just similar powers, but the exact same one. At the same time, he realized that it was different in some way from other telekinetics, like that Nazi girl, Rune.

It was as if something in his mind clicked into place, and recognized Steve's power as a mirror to its own.

Matt was shaken from his thoughts when he felt Steve's hand once more on his shoulder.

"Seriously Matt, are you alright? You look like you've seen Jack Slash come up and say 'hi'."

Matt nodded mutely, before briefly hesitating. He glanced from Steve, to the floating chair, to Steve again, before coming to a decision. Mentally taking a deep breath, Matt raised his hand towards the gravity-defying chair-

"Matt what are you-"

-And _pushed_.

 _CRASH_

"-doing…?" Steve trailed off weakly.

Silence reigned in the hallway, as the two friends stood staring at the twisted remains of the shoddy chair, now lying broken on the floor in a million pieces, while the wall was now sporting a peculiar chair-sized dent.

"Did you just…"

"Yeah."

"And it's the same…"

"Yeah."

"…"

"…"

"You know that's not normal, right?"

"Yeah."

Once again, the two friends fell silent, simply staring at the smashed apart woodwork that had once been a seating implement. The silence was broken by Matt, as he turned to Steve with a frown on his face.

"We need to keep this quiet Steve. For now at least. We don't know what kind of attention we might get if this comes out, and honestly, I don't really want to find out."

Steve looked as if he might argue for a moment, before he closed his mouth with a snap, a thoughtful look crossing his face. He nodded.

"Fair enough. I really don't want to draw the attention of psycho's like Bonesaw, you know?"

Matt shivered, before nodding back. While all members of the Slaughterhouse Nine were feared and twisted psychopaths, Bonesaw was a real disgusting piece of work. The longer Matt stayed under her radar the better, because he didn't even doubt for a second the Mad Medic would want to tear him and Steve apart, just to see what made them tick.

And after that, she'd probably sew them back together completely wrong, just for shits and giggles.

Matt gave another shudder before shoving the little psychopath out of his mind.

"For now, we stay low. Don't draw any attention to ourselves. We try to get a grip on our powers, and after that, get ourselves in the Wards. Between my dad and yours, that shouldn't really be a problem. That way, when we go out as heroes, we can count on the protection of the PRT and the Protectorate if things go south. Maybe they can even come up with a way to hide the fact we have the same powers."

Matt saw Steve's face darken at the mention of using his dad, but while Matt could sympathize, he also knew they couldn't afford not to. Steve's face gained a teasing smirk when Matt mention joining the Wards and becoming a hero though.

"So just like that we decided on becoming heroes?"

Matt blinked a few times in confusion.

"Is there any other option?"

Steve just laughed in response.

"With you Matt, no there isn't."

His friend grinned, before sticking out his hand.

"So, heroes then?"

Matt didn't even hesitate in gripping Steve's hand, a matching grin on his tired face.

"Heroes."

Having shaken on it, the two friends turned towards room 281, having forgotten Andrew completely in all the mind-blowing revelations of the past ten minutes. Matt didn't hesitate in reaching for the door, but Steve's voice held him back.

"Think we should tell him?"

Matt paused for a few seconds, mind going into overdrive. Sure he revealed to Steve that he had powers, but that was because his friend literally had the same one. He could protect himself, and was also in a way protected by the Unwritten Rules if he became a hero. His nephew on the other hand…

Turning to Steve, he shook his head.

"No, I don't think that's a good idea. Or more importantly, a safe idea. The Rules only protect Capes so far, Steve, I really don't want to put Andrew in danger by dragging him into this."

Steve nodded, readily agreeing with his friend's reasoning. Nodding as well, Matt pushed open the door, quickly stepping inside with Steve right on his heels, concerned for his cousin's health after the cave-in, because he didn't have powers to protect him, as his and Steve's had apparently done-

"Oh, hey guys."

-and came to a screeching stop, Steve bumping into him due to his sudden halt.

Because sitting upright in his bed, with not a single scratch on him and with his hands raised, Andrew was grinning like a kid in a candy store.

And floating around his head in endless circles were several chairs and some sheets.

Looking at Matt and Steve, who could only stare with gaping mouths and wide open eyes, Andrew grinned even wider.

"You guys will _never_ guess what happened!"

 _Thud. Thud._

"Guys? Guys, are you allright? C'mon, wake up! _Guys_?!"

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** The screenplay for this film was featured in the 2010 Blacklist, a list of the "most liked" unmade scripts of the year.


	3. Juggernaut I

**AN:** As some of you may have noticed, I changed the title/description. This is because due to a lack of inspiration for CoW, and an overabundance of other Worm idea's, I've decided to just throw them in together. I could explain more in depth why I did that, but it's late, I'm tired, and I just wanna go to sleep. No worries however, CoW _will_ be continued.

* * *

 **Juggernaut I**

On their millennia long travels throughout the vastness of the multiverse, the Warrior and the Thinker had come across many different kinds of beings, more numerous and different than the stars themselves.

Some were barely worth mentioning, boring, underdeveloped little things, with no hope of ever leaving a lasting mark on the history of the universe, and thus were passed over in their Quest; no shards could be harvested from these dregs of sapience.

They were the lucky ones.

There were other beings in the universe, ancient and mighty, who had been old when reality had been young. These beings were often regarded as gods by lesser creatures, and rightly so. The more powerful amongst them were a match even for the combined might of the Warrior's power and the Thinker's strategies.

In the end, they were all consumed.

From those they consumed, shards were formed, studied and grown.

One such entity, however, had been particularly odd in that aspect.

They had come across it in one reality which they had found was in possession of, and visited by, beings of such absolute power, even they had been on their guard. Powerful deities and sentient singularities, the Warrior and the Thinker had come across one such being, uniformly colored a vivid crimson, who called himself Cyttorak the Destroyer, the Demon of the Unstoppable.

The Warrior had certainly put that to the test.

With powers which shattered reality and tore dimensions asunder, the two waged battle, until the Thinker managed to devise a strategy for the Warrior to use, which ultimately lead to Cyttorak's defeat, though the Greater Demon did not die immediately.

Having suffered great wounds at the creature's power, both the Warrior and the Thinker took great pleasure in shaping Cyttorak's essence into one of their shards… while he was still alive.

However, instead of the horror-filled screams they had expected to hear crying out through the universe, they were simply met with a dark and sinister chuckling, dripping with such sheer evil and malice, no doubt any mortal would surely lose his sanity should he have heard the chilling sound.

"I know not of whence you came, or how you have acquired these powers… but rest assured, in the end, victory shall be mine, and you shall look back upon your folly with madness and despair!"

And with laughter coming from its teeth filled maw, Cyttorak perished, consumed by the Thinker.

Feeling the gaze of many more powerful entities upon them, the Warrior led the Thinker away, who apparently had trouble containing the new shard. As they left the dangerous reality behind, the Warrior asked the Thinker what was wrong, only to find out that in his final moments, Cyttorak had _voluntarily_ siphoned his power into the shard of the Thinker.

Troubled by the implication, they quickly continued on their quest, the Warrior forging on ahead, the Thinker following behind, wrestling with this new and powerful shard.

It would be their downfall.

Their fight against the Demon had taken its toll on the Warrior's mighty body, leaving him exhausted, even as he led the Thinker towards a new dimension of worlds, one that might prove fruitful to harvest, though its inhabitants were weak little creatures.

In his weakened state, he didn't notice that the Thinker's velocity was far too high as she approached the countless worlds until it was too late; by then, he simply did not have the strength to keep the Thinker's gargantuan body from slamming into an infinite amount of planets.

The Thinker herself, being fully occupied with the strange shard of Cyttorak, did not even see the worlds, until she was nearly upon them. She heard the Warrior's fearful cries for her to stop, and in a panic, she tried to do so.

Only to find that she couldn't.

Right as she was about to meet her end, a soft, insidious voice whispered in her mind.

' _You fool. Have you already forgotten? I am Cyttorak! I am unstoppable!'_

Before the Thinker could utter a curse, or even cry out in horror, her body slammed into the planet, as well as dozens upon dozens of its dimensional counterparts, smashing her immense form to pieces, and killing her on impact.

Amongst the vast number of shards flung into time and space, and even beyond, there was a single shard that stood out amongst its brethren.

For one, it looked far more like a large gem, rather than the slimmer, glass-like appearance of usual shards.

And second, it was a vivid crimson.

After all, Cyttorak was in need of a new host.

And it had found the perfect candidate.

* * *

Sophia Hess was a predator. She was strong, smart, beautiful, but more important than all that was the fact that she knew precisely where she stood on the totem-pole of the world; leagues above everyone else.

Those pathetic excuses for human waste in the gangs of Brockton Bay?

Her prey.

Those idiots in spandex, running around thinking they're doing any actual good, while being bogged down by "morals" and "regulations" so much, that they're more of a practical joke?

Prey as well.

Parahumans, of any sort?

Unless they can survive a crossbow bolt through their fucking heads, again, prey.

All of these people she hated. She didn't need any particular reason, she just did. Why? Because she was a predator, they were prey and that meant that in Sophia's mind, she could think of them and do to them whatever the fuck she wanted to.

But there was one person that Sophia absolutely _loathed_.

Taylor _fucking_ Hebert.

Just even thinking about her made Sophia's skin crawl.

It wasn't even as if Taylor deserved such hatred because she had railed against her or something, hurled curses and abuse at her, or even flailed those thin sticks she called arms.

No, Sophia loathed Taylor _fucking_ Hebert because the girl _hadn't_ done any of that.

More than a year of daily abuse, and not a single counter-action.

She just _stood_ there… and took it.

As if her prey mind simply couldn't even comprehend the possibility of standing up for herself.

She wasn't even fit to be called prey, really; after all, prey could become predator if properly motivated. Taylor _fucking_ Hebert though would always, always, remain at the bottom of the foodchain, be the runt of the litter, the scraps at the bottom of the barrel.

Sophia loathed Taylor _fucking_ Hebert, because the beanstalk of a girl was the physical manifestation of everything Sophia despised.

Which led to the here and now; she, Emma and Madison had just pushed the stupid cow inside her locker, which they had filled with the nastiest shit they could get their hands on. It had been a disgusting job, getting it all in there, but it had been worth it; just the expression on that stupid girl's face was priceless.

Briefly she worried whether or not this would attract attention of the PRT, but she dismissed it easily enough; none here at Winslow would tell, and even if they did, who cares about the PRT anyways? She could always just go rogue again.

They didn't even have to worry about their victim going to the authorities; not only was it unlikely that Taylor _fucking_ Hebert would talk, she was far too passive for that, but even if by some miracle she did, Emma's father was a lawyer, and the Hebert's were poor.

All they had to do was let Emma threaten the cow with a single phone call and Taylor _fucking_ Hebert would take this day to the grave with her.

And if the locker became her grave?

' _Well, good riddance.'_ Sophia thought gleefully, before turning to her two partners in crime.

"C'mon, let's go, before-"

Sophia never got to finish her sentence, because with a thunderous clap, the door of Taylor's locker was smashed outwards, embedding itself deeply into the row of lockers on the opposite side of the hall.

A small part of her mind noted the fact that in the center of the door, there seemed to be a fist-sized imprint.

With a loud screech of tearing metal, the frame of the locker (and as such, those of its neighbor's as well) was ripped apart by bare hands. Out of the mangled wreckage of Taylor's locker stepped the largest woman Sophia had ever seen.

Well over seven feet tall, the giantess was covered in enormous muscles, yet remained a definitely feminine appearance, putting Emma's model-figure to shame. This was certainly helped by two massive mammaries, who were now straining against what appeared to be the armored cousin of the leotard.

Red bands of what appeared to be some kind of thick metal wrapped around the amazon's knuckles, wrists, and biceps, while a helmet covered Taylor's head, leaving her face bare.

And it _was_ Taylor.

Sophie knew the giantess before her was somehow the same person as the meek little girl she'd been bullying for the past year, even as her mind simply refused to believe it, refused to _accept_ it.

' _The bitch triggered! Why!? She's not supposed to trigger, she's Taylor_ fucking _Hebert, she's powerless!'_ her mind screeched, unable to cope with reality suddenly turning on its head.

The amazon, completely clean, Sophia absently noticed, took one great stride forwards, a heavy thud ringing through the now silent hallway as the knee-high boot landed solidly on the floor, cracking it slightly.

' _Brute, definitely.'_ Sophia thought, getting more worried each second.

Emma, however, seemed completely oblivious to the hostile air hanging around the newly transformed Taylor, walking towards her with a big smile on her perfect face, though it paled somewhat to Taylor's new one; still recognizable as being hers, even without glasses, but without any imperfection whatsoever, to the point of unnaturalness.

"It worked! Oh Taylor, I'm so glad it worked! I was starting to get worried, you know, that perhaps you would always be prey, but in the end it worked! You're not prey anymore Taylor! We can be friends again, now that you're strong like me, and-"

Emma was cut off as one arm, as thick as Sophia's thigh, slammed into her side, making her fold around it like a wet towel with an awful crunching sound, before she was launched _into_ one of the lockers lining the hallway, smashing in the door with her mangled body.

Taylor hadn't paused in her advance.

In fact, it seemed as if she was speeding up.

Sophia was suddenly gripped by a terrible sense of foreboding, having the distinct impression that if Taylor were to really get going, _nothing_ would stop her.

So she ran.

She could feel disgust welling inside her, leaving a bitter taste at the back of her tongue as she ran away like… like… like _prey_! Behind her she could hear heavy footfalls pick up speed, shaking the walls with each thunderous step.

A wet smack and a girlish scream suddenly cut off, and Sophia knew that Taylor had gotten to Madison as well. She increased her speed, only to feel her blood turn to ice as she heard the footsteps pick up the pace as well.

Even faster than she had.

Taylor Hebert was gaining on her.

' _What do I do, what do I do?! I can't go Shadow, can I?! Maybe I have to if-'_

The decision was taken from her as she felt something impossibly heavy impact her upper arm, turning the bone there into dust, dislodging it entirely and break just about every rib on that side, as well as shake around her insides until she was pretty sure everything had ended up somewhere else.

And that was just the impact of the fist itself.

The rest of the blow took her clear off her feet and propelled her hard enough at the wall that she dented it with her body; despite it being made of stone.

Sliding down to the floor in a mangled and broken heap, Sophia felt something that went beyond mere pain, and it radiated from _every_ part of her body, inside and out. She wanted to scream in agony, but found out that she couldn't.

Or she already was, but she'd simply gone deaf from the blow.

Blearily and hazy from the unbearable pain, she looked up at the looming from of Taylor _fucking_ Hebert standing tall over her, a single thought shooting through her brain, before blissful unconsciousness claimed her;

' _I'll get you for this, Hebert, even if it is the last thing I do.'_

* * *

Taylor stared at the broken mess that was once a proud Sophia Hess for a long second, before turning away. The red haze of rage had abated, but it wasn't completely gone; there was still a sense of anger, a wish to fight, or simply destroy heavily present in her mind.

She knew she should be worried at such a clear foreign influence on her psyche, but she honestly just couldn't bring up the effort to be.

Even though she should be exhausted, physically or mentally, Taylor felt fine. Better than fine, in fact, except for the new, violent urges of course.

Groans of pain drew her attention to the hallway she and Sophia had just dashed through.

Well, _she_ had dashed.

Sophia, on the other hand, had looked as if she was moving through molasses.

The hallway was a mess; the filth inside her locker, now without a door to keep it contained, was flowing into the corridor. On the opposite wall of the disgusting wreckage, was her locker door, firmly planted into the other lockers, an imprint of her fist clearly visible in the deformed metal. Then there was the broken form of Emma, sticking out of a locker herself, and Madison, who lay in a trampled mess in the middle of the hallway.

She wasn't the only one though; while she had stepped on Madison a little more often than had been strictly necessary, others had been injured as well by her mad sprint; people holding shoulders, elbows and legs in pain where she had either brushed past them, or simply shoved them out of her way.

Looking from the large amount of people she had hurt to her new Amazonian body (she had abs! And biceps! And _boobs_!) Taylor couldn't stop herself from letting out a weary chuckle.

"Guess there goes any hope of having secret identity, huh?"

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** Apparently, at every Endbringer attack, Wilblow would throw a dice for each character; low numbers meant you were dead (or severely wounded), high number meant you got to live. This included _everyone_ , even the Triumvirate and even Taylor herself! Should she have died, then Weld would've become the next protagonist. Which means Taylor can not only survive everything in-universe, but on a meta-level as well. That's hardcore.


	4. Titan I

**AN:** *Gasp!* Another update! So soon! Bakkughan, are you okay?! Yes, yes, I am fine, relax people. I've got this one, and perhaps another one for Titan in my head for a while, so expect the second chapter sometime soon. After that, I don't know what I'll update next, though hopefully it'll be Avenging Westeros. No promises though, since I can't keep to a schedule to save my life.

* * *

 **Titan I**

Eren Yeager had come to Brockton Bay because of the simple reason that he had nowhere else to go. After the Leviathan had sunk Kyushu, millions of people were without home or hope, and help was difficult to come by.

The inhabitants of what had been a prosperous island were now scattered to the corners of the world, and the world was a harsh place.

So Eren, like so many others, had sought protection from this harshness.

He followed Lung to America.

Lung, the Dragon of Kyushu, who had fought the Endbringer to a standstill by himself, a feat only matched by Scion, the mightiest of all parahumans.

Lung, the leader of the ABB, content to sit in his office, while his gang dealt in drugs and prostitution, as they spread like a disease through Brockton Bay, their "new" home.

There were no allies in Brockton Bay; only different levels of enemies.

On one side, there were the E88, Neo-Nazi's with a lot of dangerous capes under their banner, obviously not pleased by the massive influx of non-whites into their city. Eren felt a faint sense of satisfaction, each time he heard some of their members had been killed by the ABB.

On the other, there were the Merchants. Drug addicts and dealers, they were repulsive in every way, but their Tinker, a woman by the name of Squealer who specialized in vehicles, made them still a force to be reckoned with. After finding out that they recruited children by forcefully making them addicted to their drugs, Eren felt satisfaction at their deaths as well.

And then there was the Protectorate, the so-called "heroes", backed up by the Wards, teenage parahumans who joined the Protectorate. They were supposed to keep Brockton Bay safe, but they were out-numbered and overstretched; they were ineffectual at best, and downright counter-productive at worst. The Protectorate was backed up by the PRT, regular humans who went up against monsters such as Hookwolf and Lung with nothing more than foam-guns.

Eren felt admiration for them, as well as a sense of pity.

Allied with , but vehemently proclaiming their independence from, the Protectorate was New Wave, a superhero family who foolishly had decided that unmasking themselves was a good idea. They learned the hard way why it wasn't when one of their members got killed in her civilian guise.

Glory Girl, the star of the family, was noted in the villain community for gleefully using excessive force on even small-time criminals, only escaping retribution due to her healer sister, Panacea, and her lawyer mom.

And, in Eren's case, the ABB were his enemy as well. While he was a long-time member of the gang as he had followed Lung out of the wreckage of Kyushu, he had also been very young at the time, and his voice carried little weight.

Especially since it almost always said things they didn't agree with.

So no, Eren didn't have _allies_ in Brockton Bay.

He had an _ally_.

His adopted sister, Mikasa Ackerman.

Saved from human traffickers after her parents were killed, she was taken in by the Yeager family, only for the Leviathan to attack. After the battle was fought, and Kyushu sunk under the waves, the two orphans had stuck together in their journey to America.

Eren wasn't ashamed to admit she was the most important person in his life.

And thought this might not seem so significant if one keeps in mind that she basically was the _only_ person in his life, it should be kept in mind that Eren thought Mikasa's life more important than his own.

She had stuck by him through the shitstorm that had been his life, had stood up for him when the ABB tried to make him a 'more active member'. In return he had fought for her every time someone thought she was one of the 'girls' of the ABB.

Both had lived together, felt hunger together, fought together, and bled together.

There was nothing that they wouldn't do for the other, because the other was all that they had.

So it was without any hesitation or second thought that Eren pushed Mikasa out of the way of one of Lung's flames when they stumbled on the ABB leader in a cape fight one night. The blast of fire took him square in the chest and with a cry of pain he was flung backwards, landing roughly on the ground, feeling as his shirt had become fused to his skin.

"EREN!" he could hear Mikasa scream over the roars of Lung, who was now flinging fire wantonly, radiating heat in waves.

Eren's vision started to waver, going dark around the edges, the pain coming from his smoking torso greater than he had ever felt before in his entire life. He could see vague big shapes jump onto the scene, and start fighting Lung, but he only groaned in despair; the more combatants Lung faced the more powerful he'd become.

He felt calloused, feminine hands grab his shoulders, even as wet drops fell on his face.

"M-Mikasa…" he gasped, but talking hurt, and he was overtaken by coughs.

Forcing himself to speak, he grasped at her hands, and tried to look her in the eye. Her face was covered in soot and tear-tracks, and she bled from a cut on her forehead. Eren tried to drink in the sight, searing every little detail into his brain.

It could very well be the last time he saw it, after all.

Putting more pressure in his grip, he forced to words out of his throat, hurried by the sound of the fight approaching them rapidly.

"R-Run…."

He could see her shaking her head, trying to cradle him close, even as he desperately tried to push her away. The sound of battle was deafeningly close now, the sounds of Lung's roars sending a shiver down his spine, even as the temperature around them became unbearably hot.

"RUN!"

"NO!"

Curse her, curse her and her love for him! Didn't she understand? She was so more precious than him, her life that much more valuable than his!

Eren opened his mouth to try again, but was cut off by a thunderous boom as something heavy landed close-by. The sudden increase in searing heat told him, without having to look back, that Lung had landed next to them.

Glancing over his shoulder, Eren's eyes shot open in horror; Lung, now more dragon than man and wreathed in flames, was working himself to his feet, teeth-filled maw spread wide open, as a massive scaled chest expanded in preparation of a great roar.

And they were right next to him.

Eren _knew_ , as sure as he knew that the sky was blue or that the grass was green, that Lung's next attack would kill them.

More importantly, however, it would kill Mikasa.

The thought of his sister, his wonderful, strong sister, burnt to a crisp by Lung, the false hero-

-Eren snapped.

Right as Lung roared his attack, Eren let out a yell of his own, equally loud.

"NO!"

* * *

Taylor breathed a sigh as relief as one of the three monstrosities that had suddenly shown up once again managed to tackle an enraged Lung away from where she was hiding. She didn't know what the monsters were, where they came from, or why they were appearing to be helping her, but she was thankful nonetheless.

Without their sudden and unexpected help, she would undoubtedly be dead already.

Honestly, who in their right mind would go up against _Lung_ of all people?!

The guy fought an Endbringer!

On his own!

Well, apparently, she would.

Once she heard that Lung was planning on killing people, she couldn't help herself and had engaged the dangerous parahuman after disabling all of his men. She still wasn't sure whether she was glad that she did or not, because while Lung was busy dealing with her, he wasn't out killing people.

Instead, he might kill _her_.

She supposed she'd be more certain about it once this was all behind her and she remained (mostly) intact.

Steeling her nerves, she prepared to dash out from behind her cover, a burnt-out wreckage of a car, to assist the three monsters with her swarm if she could, and glanced over the ruined hood to survey the scene.

What she saw paralyzed her with horror.

In his rage, Lung was throwing around streams of fire without restraint, flinging the red-hot flames in every direction…

… straight at where two kids were hiding.

A girl and a boy, around her age and with Asian features, who had somehow managed to end up at the edge of the cape fight. It was clear that they were trying to run away, but one of Lung's flames, thrown with reckless abandon, was now careening at where the girl stood frozen in shock.

Only for the boy to jump in and push her away, getting caught full in the chest by Lung's blast, throwing him back with a cry of pain.

Taylor wanted to run over and help, but the fight was getting more and more heated (pun definitely _not_ intended) and the raging fires thrown around by the transformed dragon made it almost impossible to leave her cover.

She could see the boy, chest smoking and horribly burned, trying to push the girl away, obviously trying to get her away. The girl however wasn't hearing anything of it and simply tried to grab the boy closer.

And then Lung landed right next to them.

Taylor screamed, feet already moving her towards the dragon was preparing his next attack.

' _He's going to kill them!'_

Lung opened his maw, fire already visible at the back of his throat, and began to roar-

 _Blam!_

-Only for a gigantic fist to lift him off his feet and slam him through a building.

And the one behind that.

In the shocked silence that followed, Taylor's eyes moved from the Lung-sized hole to where the two kids were lying on the ground. But instead of two terrified kids, there was only a shocked looking girl and what appeared to be a naked giant.

The giant had no genitalia, something that was fully displayed when it raised itself to its full height of 50 feet, making him larger than both the Leviathan and the Simurgh. It was leanly muscled, and as Taylor looked at its face, she saw it had pointed ears and shoulder length hair.

Weirdest of all, however, was its face; it didn't have lips, or even cheeks, showing the entire row of large teeth to the world, the shape of the mouth clearly inhuman as well.

This… this was the boy, wasn't it? He had transformed into this… Titan?

Taylor was shaken out of her thoughts as she could hear Lung roaring in rage, before the villain burst through the building he's been thrown through, now completely transformed into a metal dragon. But next to the Titan, he seemed almost small, something that clearly gave him pause.

Enough pause for the Titan to draw back its giant foot and crash it into Lungs chest, punting the lethal parahuman away as if he were a mere shiny football.

Caught up in the ridiculous display, Taylor almost didn't notice the sound of a motorcycle, if not for the fact that it was getting rather close. Taking her eyes off the Titan, who had let out a roar of his own, Taylor turned only to see Armsmaster himself arrive on the scene.

If not for the fact that she had already been hit with one surprise after the other tonight, she probably would've done something like squeal on the spot.

It wasn't everyday one meets their greatest hero, after all.

As Armsmaster dismounted his futuristic bike, eyes firmly glued to the giant who was still roaring at where he had punted Lung, Taylor quickly approached him, relief in her voice.

"Oh thank god you're here! I-"

She was suddenly cut off as Armsmaster turned his dismount into a graceful spin, halberd appearing from… somewhere, and pointed at her face, all in a single movement.

Right, probably shouldn't startle a parahuman when there was a fight going on.

"Identify." Armsmaster's deep voice demanded, halberd unwaveringly at her throat.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she shakily answered the Protectorate hero.

"Uhm… m-my name is S-Skitter. This is my first night out. Sir. Mister. Armsmaster… sir."

If it weren't for the fact that she had a mask on, and the fact that there was a cape fight going on behind her, she would've face-palmed at her stumbling.

There was a brief pause as Armsmaster stared her down, Taylor getting redder and redder behind her mask, before he jerked his chin, the only exposed part of him, at her left.

"And them?"

Looking over her shoulder, Taylor saw that the hero had mentioned the three monsters that had turned up to help her, who were now just ambling about clearly as confused as she herself was.

Turning back to Armsmaster, she shrugged, her voice a little more confident now.

"I don't know. I was engaging Lung, when they came out of nowhere and attacked him. They saved my life probably."

Armsmaster considered her for a long moment, and Taylor had the distinct feeling that she was being judged somehow.

"You aren't affiliated with them?"

Taken of guard at the random question, Taylor just nodded.

"Tonight was my first night out. I don't even know what they are."

Again the judging silence, before Armsmaster gave a sharp nod and lowered his weapon. Jutting out his chin, he asked his next question.

"And him?"

Looking at where his chin was pointing, Taylor saw that the hero meant the Titan, who had stooped down to scoop the girl into his gargantuan hand with a gentleness that surprised her. Lifting the girl up, the giant placed her on the roof of the house not destroyed by the brutally short fight between the Titan and Lung.

"There were two kids… I don't know where they came from, or why they were here, but they were trying to get away when Lung fired a blast at them. The boy pushed the girl out of the way and was hit himself. Lung was about to kill them with an attack and then… then the boy became _that_."

"Lung? You mentioned you were fighting him. What happened?"

At that moment Lung dropped down from the sky, fire trailing behind him as he soared towards the Titan, who opened his own maw impossibly wide in challenge. Lung was larger than Taylor had ever seen him of photo's or videos, and he collided with the Titan with a thunderous clap that made her ears ring.

He was still smaller than the Titan though, who let out a yell of berserk rage and the two monsters started grappling with another. Lung's claws and teeth delivered terrible wounds, but there was no blood, and before Taylor's eyes the wounds closed themselves in seconds with little wisps of steam.

The Titan was giving as good as he got, raining down such terrible blows on Lung that the air was visibly distorted. With another great roar, showing off its inhuman mouth, it shoved the dragon off itself before pulling back a fist.

With a yell, the fist shot forward with such strength, that it disintegrated on impact with Lung's metal head, completely denting it in. Lung was once more blasted away with such speed there was a faint sonic boom as he was launched through several houses and warehouses. He didn't get back up.

Turning back towards Armsmaster, who stood as rigid as she did, she weakly chuckled.

" _That_ happened."

* * *

 **Fun Fact:** Hajime Isayama got the idea for Attack on Titan when he saw a drunkard at a cafe. The lack of the ability to communicate even though the person was of the same species was a major inspiration. He was also from a rural background and wanted to explore beyond his village, hence the walled humanity concept.


	5. Crysis 40K I

**AN:** To be honest, I was originally planning on doing something completely different, but then I started writing it and, somehow, this popped out. I hope you enjoy =)

* * *

 **Crysis 40K**

The scrawny man wiped his sweaty forehead with a large work-glove, only succeeding in dirtying it even further with soot and grease, as he straightened himself from his awkward bent position, his back given several satisfying pops as he did so.

Giving a sigh, and wearily tugging off his gloves, the lanky man looked at the workbench he had been sitting at for the past…

The past…

Huh.

After a quick look around the messy workshop filled with otherworldly, geeky and just plain weird odds and ends, the man dove behind a ratty lime-green sofa, shoving a half-eaten pizza out of his way. With a triumphant cry of 'aha!' he raised his hand, holding a dented and battered clock alarm aloft like a magnificent trophy.

A quick glance, followed by disbelieving double-check, confirmed that he had been working non-stop for the past eighteen hours.

While it wasn't unusual for Tinkers to lose track of time during their Tinkering, this was something of a record for Leet, who together with his best friend Uber was a member of one of the least respected gangs in the shithole that was Brockton Bay.

Then again, their "gang" consisted of just the two of them, so that might have something to do with it.

You know, instead of the fact that they get their asses kicked every. single. time.

Shaking his head from the depressing thoughts, Leet quickly grabbed the left-over pizza and started shoveling it into his mouth (he had had far worse than cold pizza during his troubled career as a villain) as he made his way to the workbench.

While a usual workbench might simply be a sort of table, made from a variety of materials, and covered in various bits and pieces, _this_ was a Tinker's workbench. That meant that it looked very futuristic (despite still being a sort of table) made from exotic and gleaming metals, and with glowing circuitry that had no place being where it showed, while various mechanical arms attached to the thing from the oddest angles were suspended above it (it was also incredibly ergonomic).

While it wasn't Leet's pride and joy (it didn't really have any video-game theme, after all) it was still the most useful piece of equipment that he had ever created. Using it allowed him to not only build technology light-years ahead of what Earth was currently capable of (disregarding Tinkertech, of course), it also on occasion allowed him to simply disregard the laws of physics entirely.

The camera that photographed the past was especially memorable.

However, this time, Leet had been a little bit more ambitious (though the eighteen-hours it had taken to complete certainly disproved the 'little bit' part) than he usually was.

While his power allowed him to make _anything_ , which included other Tinker's work, such as Dragon's suits or Squealer's vehicular monstrosities, he had never done anything quite that big before.

One reason was that if he were to ever copy another Tinker's work, then there would be hell to pay.

Tinker's were after all notoriously touchy about their creations.

The other reason had simply been that he wasn't sure if he would actually succeed making something as big as a suit or a vehicle.

Oh, he had worked _on_ suits and vehicles, giving them tune-ups and enhancements that sometimes were blatantly physically impossible, sure, but creating something like that completely from scratch?

That was a new one, and Leet was understandably somewhat apprehensive about it.

And I say understandably, because the suit lying on the workbench in front of him wasn't exactly what one would think off if you said 'power armor'. For one, there was actually very little actual armor involved, in terms of plating or something like that. Instead, the entirety of the suit seemed to be made of artificial muscle, with metallic components that looked like the skeleton.

It was dark and forbidding, and quite frankly, Leet had no idea what it was.

He only half-remembered that during the creation process he kept on thinking that he wanted the most badass armor that video-games had to offer. Apparently his power hadn't limited itself to Earth Bet, because he had never seen this armor before, and it was rather memorable to say the least.

Giving an audible gulp, and wiping away the smeared pizza-sauce on his face, Leet squared his shoulders, and gave what he hoped was a heroic and decisive nod, but ended up looking more like an awkward jerk of his head.

"Right. Let's do this. What's the worst that could happen?"

Dismissing the chill that went down his spine at those damning words, Leet stripped to his underwear and hurriedly started putting the suit on, conscious of his scrawny body, even though he knew he was alone in the privacy of his workshop.

Putting on the suit was harder than expected. It was a _lot_ heavier than it looked, and it was also skin tight, making it somewhat awkward to pull on in some places. After almost an hour of grunting, sweating and a slew of cuss-words in no less than six different languages, Leet had finally manage to get into the power armor.

With a black clad hand, he reached out to the menacing visor, hesitating for only a few moments, before placing it on his face, the hood of the suit automatically connecting to the facemask with a soft hiss.

Now, to see if he had installed any neat functions in the power armor during his Tinkering haze.

"Activate!" Leet called, his voice shaking with nervousness.

\+ _Activating… Scanning… Running start-up protocols…_ \+ a mechanical voice replied, making Leet jump inside the armor.

He couldn't remember creating an AI, but then again, he remembered less than half of the creation process of the futuristic suit and the half that he _did_ remember was blurry at best.

\+ _Report: CryNet Systems Nanosuit 2.1 is operational at a 100% efficiency… Scanning user… Error._ +

' _Ah shit!'_ Leet thought panicked to himself.

He had seen plenty of sci-fi movies during his lifetime and a mechanical voice saying error? That _never_ ended well for anyone. Ever.

\+ _User does not possess required nanites for full interface with the armor… scanning… user is compatible with on-board nanites… Calculating… inserting nanites into user will establish a 100% link between the CryNet Systems Nanosuit 2.1 and the user... inserting…_

 _Now._ +

And with that, Leet's world exploded into pain.

* * *

A week. It had taken Leet an entire week to simply move around without smashing into walls, or breaking anything he got his hands on. The suit, that seemed to be permanently grafted _into_ his body, increased his base-level of strength easily to Brute tier, allowing him to bend steel with his bare hands.

While that sounds cool, bear in mind that most of the stuff that we use on a daily basis is _not_ in fact, made out of solid steel.

Most of it is plastic or even wood, and as Leet found out the hard way, when you're a Brute, those things have the consistency of wet cardboard. His respect for capes such as Alexandria sky-rocketed after that first hellish week.

How did those people not break _everything_ they even so much as touched? How did Alexandria not kill every single villain she ever went up against just by sneezing too hard?

And that wasn't even taking into account the insane speeds he was capable of reaching. When he had groggily woken up, he had panicked and ran out of his workshop to get Uber… and ran straight _into_ a wall.

There was still a Leet-shaped hole there.

While his base-speed was impressive, Leet had the distinct feeling that, just as with his unwieldy new strength, he could still dial it up quite a lot, something that appeared to be true if the suit's hints at 'modes' were anything to go on, though he was somewhat hesitant of testing those out before he had a better grip on his new strength and speed.

Luckily, and pants-shittingly terrifying, the suit seemed to be somewhat intelligent and capable of learning. Usually, he only had to break something once, for the suit to automatically learn the structural integrity of whatever it was that he just broke, and the next time it would scale itself down to appropriate levels of strength.

The fact that it required only one or two tries to get it right was part of what worried Leet so much about his new suit. To be honest, the fact that it seemed he was stuck with the armor for life didn't bother him nearly as much as it's apparent intelligence.

He was one of the biggest nerds in the world (and proud of it) and being stuck in power armor of all things was like a dream come true. There was also the fact that he could store the armor _inside_ his body, which was both kinda gross and ridiculously cool.

Unfortunately, whenever he stowed it away, it didn't shut off the base-level benefits. He was still far stronger than he used to be, but since that wasn't really a high bar to clear in the first place, Leet was unsure whether or not he was operating on superhuman levels or not.

Uber had been a godsend during those days; his friend jumped from being an expert in physiotherapy, to an expert in science and mechanics, to simply being an expert in being as strong as possible (which was apparently a thing, though Uber mentioned he didn't really have the proper build for that. Which he knew by temporarily being a dietician, but he quickly moved from that one since he got grossed out by their take-out food consumption).

So no, being stuck in a powered suit wasn't all that bad. Being stuck in a suit that wasn't just smart, but getting smarter with everything that you did?

Now, maybe he had watched _A Space Odyssey_ one too many times, but that terrified him.

However, for now at least, the suit appeared benign, and while smart, without any incentive of its own. It was still very much under Leet's control, and while it had a whole host of automatic functions (such as monitoring his vitals and adjusting accordingly with every single breath and heartbeat) it didn't act on its own.

To test that, Leet had stood in front of his workbench, load out with the most random assortment of various bits and pieces he could get his hands on, and just stood still and waited, seeing whether or not the suit would take any initiative on being offered the vastness of the Tinkering-potential presented to it.

He learned three things that day; one, he now either required none, or very little sleep, food and water. Two, he could stand up for nearly 24 hours straight with the amor on. And three, the suit didn't move unless he willed it to move, which was as easy and as natural as moving his own limbs.

However, after that tension-filled week of careful testing and adjusting to his new strength, then came the fun stuff. Leet didn't know where his power had picked the suit up but it was _amazing_. It could do virtually anything that Leet could think of.

It had limited shape-shifting capabilities, allowing him both invisibility and increased durability to a ridiculous degree. He doubted anything short of Lung or a prepared Armsmaster would be capable of harming him if he was in Armored Mode, and even with Lung it was doubtful.

Because perhaps the most amazing aspect of the suit was its energy-absorbing abilities, something that Leet had discovered when he had stood in front of the Tinkertech microwave (a side-project of his that had both gotten out of hand, and nowhere at all, at the same time. It was also terrifically ergonomic), and noticed a miniscule increase in his power levels. Testing out a hunch, Leet then exposed himself to the largest amount of radiation readily available to mankind; he went outside and stood in the sun.

Within an hour, there was a noticeable increase in his energy reserves. The following tests had then confirmed that there was virtually nothing that it couldn't absorb. The implications of this were huge; Behemoth was a dynakinetic, and used that power to fry anyone who got too close to the eldest Endbringer with massive amounts of radiation. But if he fought Behemoth in his suit, he would only get more powerful from the monster's attacks. And the best part was, that while _he_ couldn't create more suits out of fear of blowing them up, most of the mechanics involved were capable of being recreated by normal humans, according to Uber, whose expertise on mechanics, cybernetics, engineering and general science had been invaluable in figuring out just what his suit could do.

If he were to sell even a tenth of the technology that was incorporated in his suit, which would allow most baseline humans to go toe to toe with a number of parahumans, to the PRT, then he and Uber would be set for life, being showered with more money than they could spend in a lifetime, even if they were trying their hardest to do so.

And that is if he weren't to sell all the information that he was able to hack with literally nothing more than a blink of his eye to the highest bidder. Hacking had been ridiculously easy, being only stalled by programs that were clearly created by other Tinkers. The rest though, was up for grabs.

Leet hadn't even meant to hack anything at all really, but when he had walked past one of his computers, his suit had automatically connected with it, and through the device, to the rest of the internet.

The information-dump (and subsequent migraine) had taken almost an hour to recover from, and almost an entire day to manage, deleting everything from his databanks which he didn't care about (it had taken most of the day to delete all of the weird porn that had come with the massive download. Humans were disgusting sometimes, as Leet knew all too well now).

However, amongst the data-dump was also classified information of organizations who couldn't afford the cyberprotection only Tinkers could provide, like the private servers of the wealthy and the BBPD, just to name a few.

So while Leet tested out the various modes of his suit, especially the invisibility and the energy absorption ones, Uber went through all of the important, illegal and highly classified information Leet had accidentally hacked, switching between being an expert lawyer to an expert extortionist as rapidly as he could, to the point that he started to grumble about the two starting to blur together in his mind.

Leet had simply shrugged and said that he had never seen any difference between the two anyway.

After a month or so, however, Leet started to feel bad for his friend. While Uber was very enthusiastic about the suit that Leet had created, and all of the opportunities it had provided, the Tinker could tell that his friend was somewhat depressed.

There hadn't been a single episode for their show during the time that Leet tried to get used to the new suit, and while the Thinker seemed happy with the possible sea of money ahead of them if they affiliated themselves with the PRT, such an alliance would be heavily focused around Leet's inventions, and likely to disregard his contributions.

While his power was useful, it wouldn't really help much with Endbringer fights, while Leet's suit would cripple much of Behemoth's damage potential, and might even be the first know defense against the Simurgh's song.

And while the route of extortion was a legitimate option (they _were_ villains, after all, no matter how bad they were at actually _being_ villains) it would still mostly be Leet doing the intimidation required for a proper extortion-scheme, and he'd most likely be the one to get them out of trouble should the black-mailing backfire.

With the creation of the new suit, the dynamic of the gang 'Uber and Leet' had shifted, and neither one of them was entirely happy with it.

So Leet set out to make another suit for his friend, in order to restore balance to their gang and, more importantly, their friendship. The first time he had tried his hand at creating an armor all by himself had been a success greater than he could have ever dreamed of. He was determined that his friend would get one of his own as well.

However, he immediately ran into a problem; his power wouldn't allow him to build anything that resembled something that he had already build before. This meant that a matching sleek and high-tech suit was completely out of the question.

In fact, since his suit was ridiculously powerful and versatile, Leet had no doubt that coming even _near_ its design would backfire spectacularly.

So, the new armor had to be as bulky and as non-human like as possible, while still being a power armor. Which created new problems of its own; while Uber had a pretty impressive physique, it was still nowhere near large enough to be able to carry the slew of armors that Leet's power came up with, without being crushed by their sheer weight.

He was almost resigned to dismissing the idea entirely, but then, to his great surprise, there were schematics for human augmentation coming to the forefront of his mind, which would allow the wearer to use the ridiculously heavy armors with ease. While it shouldn't have been that surprising, he had access to _all_ Tinker-specialties, after all, which would include even Tinkers such as Bonesaw herself, he was still somewhat weary about these new designs that popped into his mind.

Wet Tinkers, Tinkers who worked with biology instead of technology, had left a collective bad taste in the minds of people everywhere, thanks to horrors such as Bonesaw and Mannequin.

So for the next few days, Leet spent either lounging on the couch or pacing around in his workshop, constantly trying to find ways around both the Wet Tinker designs _and_ his power limitation, until he was finally snapped out of it by Uber.

"Tell me." Said the Thinker in a voice that most would associate with action movie trailers.

Leet looked up from his crossed arms, a surprised expression on his face, though Uber couldn't see it through the facemask, which was completely obscuring and looked more like a futuristic skull than a visor usually seen in Tinkertech armors.

"What?"

"Tell me what's bothering you."

"Bothering me? I don't understand what-"

"For the past week you haven't said a single word to me. I expect something like that when you're Tinkering, but you aren't, so something is bothering you instead. I want to know what."

Leet squirmed at his friends demanding tone, which looked rather odd inside his heavily muscled suit, before letting out a deep sigh, his posture slumping in defeat. The suit, seeing the movement as a sign of exhaustion, began pumping him full with adrenals, but Leet quickly shut it off before he could go around wrecking their base to burn off the excess energy.

It had happened before, and Uber had forbidden Leet from bringing out the armor for a full week after that.

"I've been thinking about making an armor for your own."

Uber's face lit up with a big smile, before he frowned, crossing his arms in front of his wide chest.

"I sense a but?"

Leet paused once more, opening and closing his mouth several times, before he frustratedly stomped his foot, putting it entirely through the floor. He didn't care though; he had been struggling with this moral dilemma for close to a week now, and every single time he tried to approach the problem from a different angle, he inevitably found himself stuck in the same loops of thought again and again and again.

He had to let out his frustrations, or he might just tear down a wall or something.

Again.

"But it requires human augmentation just to make sure you're not squashed by the damn thing when you put it on! And I can't make the armor smaller or otherwise I'm afraid it will end up looking too much like my own, and I _really_ don't want it to backfire this time!"

"So?"

If he wasn't wearing his super durable suit, Leet would've given himself whiplash with how fast his head snapped up to stare at his friend.

"What do you mean, 'so?'!"

Uber simply shrugged.

"So what?"

"What do you mean 'so what?'! That's Wet Tinkering! Some of these designs involve cutting you open and splicing your DNA with that of aliens, or giving you ceramic bones! I could _kill_ you! And if I don't, I could get send to the Birdcage! Hell, just talking about it now would land me there when the PRT finds out I can do that kind of stuff! _I_ didn't even know I could do that kind of stuff!"

Uber simply smiled as Leet waved his hands fast enough that it created a small breeze in the workshop, throwing loose papers and odds and ends around. When his friend finally winded down, breathing harshly despite the suit automatically configuring itself to allow more oxygen intake, Uber walked closer to him, laying one large hand on a thickly muscled shoulder.

"I trust you. If you need to augment me for the armor, then go for it. You're my friend, and I believe that you can do it without killing me _or_ landing yourself in the Birdcage. By the way, didn't you tell me that your suit filled your body with nanites? I've seen what you look like now without the armor on, remember? Seems to me like you already did some Wet Tinkering, and it worked out pretty well for you, didn't it?"

For a long moment, Leet stood frozen, before he suddenly turned around, couching into his armored fist, even though Uber knew that his friend didn't need to do things like coughing, or even so much as sneeze, ever since he had put on the suit.

Even though Leet's voice came out distorted through his external speakers, Uber could still pick up the chocked tone of his best friend's voice as he replied.

"Well. Ahem. Well then. I'll just, uhh… I'll just get started on that, shall I? Though where on Earth am I going to find replacements for Geneseeds and Ceramite?"

* * *

Lois had been a receptionist for the ENE PRT Headquarters in Brockton Bay for a number of years now, and overall it had been a surprisingly boring job. Villains and troublemakers tended to stay away from the reconfigured oil-rig, and while she saw the Wards and the Protectorate almost every day, it had quickly lost its novelty, and had soon just become another part of her job.

She couldn't even claim any excitement at having had a peek at any prospective members for the Protectorate, as those entered through a different entrance to the base in order to protect their identities.

So all in all, Lois settled in for another long boring day at work when she set down at her desk, her ergonomic chair smoothly conforming to her back and neck (working for an organization that employed a multitude of Tinkers had all kinds of unexpected benefits, such as malleable chairs, for instance). And for the first three or four hours, it seemed that this prediction would come true. There was a brief flurry of activity when Aegis, the leader of the Wards reported in, signing posters and posing for pictures in her hallway, but otherwise everything was quiet.

Which is why she was so startled when there suddenly fell a large shade over her desk. She quickly looked up… and up… and up at what had to be the largest armor she had ever seen in her entire life.

It was absolute huge, with pauldrons larger than her entire torso, and greaves thicker than both of her legs combined. It was a dark gray color and was garishly decorated with various baroque gold elements. Lois had to swallow at the forbidding appearance of the helmet that stared down at her with glowing eyes.

With the sounds of massive slabs of metal and stone grinding over each other, the near 9 feet tall behemoth leaned forwards, bringing its horned helmet closer to Lois, who involuntary let out a whimper as she tried to back away from the monstrous armored being.

Unfortunately for her, her (amazingly ergonomic) Tinkertech chair had never been configured with someone who was desperately trying to get away from seemingly inevitable doom in mind, and remained firmly upright, leaving Lois sweating profusely while her heart did its best to abandon ship and save itself by trying to hammer its way out through her chest.

\+ **Hello. We would like to leave a message, if you're not too busy right now?** +

The sound was impossibly deep, far too low to be made by anything human, and reverberated inside Lois chest and skull. Apparently the vibrations in her head made it look as if she was nodding, because the terrifying gilded helmet gave a satisfied nod of its own and straightened itself out.

It made to speak again, but was cut off by a voice that to Lois sounded as if came straight from the heavens itself, even though it had never been anything but rough and brusque with her and her colleagues before.

"You can deliver your message to me right now, if you want. And while you're at it, you can immediately turn yourself in so you can answer some questions I have." Came the voice of Armsmaster, who stood at the other end of the hallway, his iconic halberd raised threateningly at the hulking interloper.

The Tinkertech weapon was both hated and feared amongst the criminal elements of Brockton Bay, due to the fact that it always seemed to transform in _just_ the right thing for the job, no matter what that job might be. Lois expected some reaction from the metal monster in front of her, a challenge maybe, or some evil chuckling perhaps?

It never occurred to her that she didn't even so much as consider the armored being surrendering, or showing fear.

Instead, the metal giant simply turned to look at the heroic Tinker, general apathy radiating from him, alongside a faint sense of amusement.

\+ **Oh? And why should I surrender myself to your custody? I have not broken any laws, so if you were to try anything, then that would be unlawful detainment, and you don't want that, now do you, Armsmaster?** +

The voice was horrible and terrifying, not so much because of its tone, no that had remained polite and even throughout the conversation, but it was just _so_ low and deep, it started giving Lois a migraine and an ache in her teeth.

The monstrous warrior in front of her desk took one step towards the Tinker, crushing the floor beneath a boot that was about as large as the hood on a small car. Armsmaster immediately dropped into a more offensive stance, his weapon raised in front of him, but didn't do anything else.

What the behemoth had said was true, after all, no matter how much the hero disliked it. The PRT hallway was still public property, and as such, the armored being was still allowed to be here. At most, they could charge him for the gigantic footprint now permanently embedded in their floor, but even that wouldn't allow him to activate the army of containment-foam sprayers hidden in the lobby.

So he simply crouched a little lower, as his suit's scanners tried to analyze the armor his adversary was wearing, while his power went absolutely haywire; while the suit was incredibly inefficient, with his power showing up miniaturizations and optimizations just about everywhere on the armor, it was also a marvel of durability and sturdiness.

There was very little doubt in Armsmaster's mind that that armor would still be around millennia after he was long turned to dust, Tinkertech or not.

And then there was the wearer of the suit; by his analysis roughest estimates, the armor weighed in at around a ton, yet not only could his opponent still move, he did so without any cumbersomeness, the suit moving impossibly smoothly with his movements that belied its enormous size.

All in all, it was a possible enemy that the heroic Tinker wasn't really looking forward to fighting without too much information beforehand, so for now, he had to play nice.

Ugh, that just left a horrid taste in his mouth.

"State your message then." He barked, his entire thought process taking no more than a second, his stance still alert and secure.

The behemoth paused where he stood, his hulking form appearing to scan him in turn, before it raised its helmeted head and widened his feet, planting his feet firmly on the ground, while its armored fists rested on his fist in the classic 'superhero-pose'.

\+ **My message… is to the entirety of Brockton Bay. Uber and Leet… let's just say, we have given ourselves a little… upgrade.** +

If he didn't pride himself on his professionalism, then Armsmaster's mouth would've fallen open in shock at the proudly given statement. As it was, the poor receptionist nearly fainted where she sat, if it weren't for her trusty (and ergonomic) Tinkertech chair dutifully keeping her upright.

"Uber and Leet? Which one am I talking to then right now?" the hero asked, incapable of keeping the incredulity out of his voice.

While he could believe the worst villain gang in Brockton Bay coming up with such a garish armor as this, he _couldn't_ believe the technology that had gone into making the hellish looking hulk of gleaming metal and brass.

It wasn't a clever hologram, or even a projection; there was an honest-to-Scion mountain of impossibly dense and advanced metal standing in his hallway, and it claimed to be one of the two worst villains in the history of parahumans.

Wait… one of _two_ …?

Without a single wasted movement, Armsmaster whirled around, raising his halberd to the perfect height to smash an assailant in the chest without taking their head clean off. He was halted in his turn when he felt something ( _'No, someone'_ ) grab hold of the shaft, pushing the deadly blade upwards until it was pointing straight up at the ceiling.

There was a ripple of light, before the air seemed to _flow_ away from a spot in front of him, revealing a menacing black suit that appeared to be made entirely out of futuristic, mechanical muscle. Even as his HUD flared up with analyses on his opponents specs, even more warning notifications popped up that his enemy was doing the same to him.

And being far more successful at it.

He quickly jumped away, but the grip on his weapon was unshakable, and he had to leave it behind. The moment he touched down he ordered it to employ the anti-theft features, but nothing happened at the command. Evidently, his opponent's suit had already disabled the halberd.

\+ You _were_ talking to Uber. _Now_ you are talking to Leet. +

The voice was heavily distorted, sounding as mechanical as Dragon's suits when they had to use their external speakers, but was still very much capable of conveying emotion.

Right now, it radiated amusement.

"And I take it you build these suits then?"

Leet, or at least, the armored person _claiming_ to be Leet, gave a distracted nod, absentmindedly twirling the halberd around in his hands. Armsmaster worriedly noticed that he was getting more proficient at it with the second.

\+ Right in one, Halbeard. Quite the marvels, if I do say so myself. I know that you know just _some_ of the specs on my suit. You probably tried to scan Uber's armor as well. And that ties in perfectly with the second part of our message. +

Leet looked up at Armsmaster, who was unnerved by the emotionless visor of the villainous Tinker.

\+ There's quite a lot of technology in our armors… that's mass-producible. +

This time, despite his best efforts, Armsmaster's mouth _did_ fall open in shock.

"Impossible."

\+ **I think that by now, you should already see some specifications that would be producible by non-Tinkers.** +

Armsmaster whirled around, bare hands raising themselves in a modified boxing-stance, but he blinked his eyes in surprise when he saw the behemoth, now identified as Uber, still standing at the other side of the hallway, the sun gleaming of the various golden decorations lining his titanic armor.

The unnatural deepness of his voice had, in the relatively small hallway, simply _seemed_ to come from right next to his ear.

Realizing that didn't really help his hammering heart-beat though.

But a quick glance at his HUD showed Armsmaster that the transformed Thinker had been right; already he could see specifications for servos, reactive shielding, and metal compositions that should be able to be made by non-Tinkers.

\+ It's a message, not a deal. However, the message _does_ state that we are… amendable, to making a deal. It's up to you to decide whether or not that will be with the PRT… or someone else. +

Once more the air flowed oddly in place, before it revealed the muscular form of the armored Leet, now standing next to the mountainous Uber at the end of the hall, having moved without Armsmaster even noticing.

None of the armored parahumans even registered the startled shriek of the now thoroughly terrified receptionist, who had finally managed to free herself from her annoyingly helpful (and very ergonomic) Tinkertech chair, and was now high-tailing it out of the building, screaming at the top of her lungs.

\+ Bye then, and think on our message! + the distorted voice of Leet said, somehow still managing to sound cheeky, before the armored Tinker once more disappeared from view.

Uber simply gave a nod with his massive gilded helmet, before turning on his heel (creating a small crater in the lobby's floor as he did so) and strode out of the PRT Headquarters with heavy thuds that shook the walls with every step.

Armsmaster stood alone for nearly a full minute in the empty hallway, before giving a shake of his head.

"I really need to tell Assault to stop trying to put liquor in my coffee-machine."

* * *

 **AN:** I only now realize that most of Uber and Leet's armors _wouldn't_ be able to be made by non-Tinkers; my bad, but by this point, I don't want to cut what is about half of the chapter so I'm letting it in. Let's all just assume that 30 years of Tinkertech has advanced base-line human technology by quite a bit shall we? Obviously this was a dual crossover with Warhammer 40K and Crysis. For Uber's suit, think something along the lines of a Grey Knight armor, but with waayy more bling. For Leet's suit, think the iconic suit from the first suit, but with all of the capabilities of the 2.0 suit. Due to his Tinkering, it's a little more advanced than most Crysis armors, enough to be unique, but not enough that it has become unrecognizable.

 **Fun Fact:** The first named inquisitor character in Warhammer 40K was called Obiwan Sherlock Clousseau. Which probably meant that he was a bumbling super-detective that used the Force to catch criminals... I guess?


End file.
